Damp Fantasies
by CaptainTsukiko
Summary: They say dreams are the reflections of the mind.


Not to say Asami wasn't pleased. No, definitely not that. But he certainly was astonished to see Takaba Akihito.

In an apron.

(A sheer one.)

And nothing underneath.

Which gave him a perfect view of not only the photographers sensuous collarbones (which he had recently taken a liking to suckling) and the rosy nipples that that the photographer sported.

Said photographer blushed and...smiled at Asami's skeptic expression. He bloody _smiled._ Takaba promptly bowed down in a well practiced dogeza in front of his suede black shoes, "Welcome home~!" Asami absentmindedly wondered if the boy had caused some kind of mischief again to be buttering him up like this.

"Is this one of your tactics again?" Asami asked, quirking a brow in question.

A hazy look crossed the boys face, "Of course not! Is it a crime a crime to welcome my honey?" Asami stopped short of unbuttoning his coat, did he just..? He took a glance at Akihito.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Oi, come here." Takaba complied, unsuspecting. Asami took hold of one of the photographers cheeks. And pulled. Hard.

"Ow! What the hell's wrong with you!?" Takaba recoiled back from his hold, holding his cheek in in _very_ both of his hands, angry tears gathering in his eyes from the pain.

"I would also ask the same of you." Asami shot back. He pulled off the heavy coat that constricted his body. The heat felt endless under that. And he could already feel a pleasurable burning pain between his legs. But his face remained deadpan as he entered his (very, very, posh) bedroom.

He slowly took a tentative look at Takaba as some light sobs reached his ears. The photographers hands were balled into fists at his sides, face daunting and as fierce as the sun itself. One thing ruined the attractive visage. The glittering tears running running messily down his face.

"I... I only wanted to.." The photographer sniffed, mucus dripped from his nose currently, "Damn you bastard! I only wanted to give you a gift and you-!" Akihito promptly turned on his back, stomping back to his room. (Which wasn't very secure, to be true.)

Leaving Asami still gaping at the doorway.

* * *

Now, the bussiness mans knuckles knocked the door repeatedly. His expression a strange potion of discomfort, guilt, bafflement and.. something else which the narrator has no idea of.

"Go away!" Asami sighed. They had been at it for what seemed like hours...

"I was shocked, alright?" Asami blinked to the side and swallowed down his pride, "I'm.. sorry."

For a moment there was no sound except his own breathing spell. Then, the door was opened, slowly and soundly. The angry mane of Akihito peeked out of the small opening.

"Did I...hear you right?" The adorable expression displayed over the photographers face made Asami want to smirk, "Yes, you did."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the photographer was on his heels, jumping up and down as imaginary confetti showered upon the two, "Ahahah! I should've recorded that! The oh so great master Asami Ryuichi apologising! It's blasphemy!" Takaba imitated a fake posh accent, mimicking those old men he's heard praising the young bussiness man. "Hey, hey, Asami! Say it again so I can record it!"

"Calm down, crazy." Asami let out a sigh as he laid a soothing hand on top of Takaba's head, "You're going to hyperventilate at this rate." Nevertheless, He was glad that the boy had returned to normal.

(Maybe he had initially swallowed some kind of drugs, who knows?)

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

"Now that I've apologised... Where's my 'gift'?" Takaba looked at Asami like a deer in headlights. "A-Ah, what gift?!" He glanced to and fro, trying to avoid the smouldering gaze of the bastard gangsta. Sweat slid down his neck. Oh why did he even do what he did?

"Fufu.. You're a bad liar, Takaba." "—WAH! Put me the fuck down!" Takaba was thrown onto muscled shoulders, and onto Asami's soft bed. Like a sack of potatoes, he thought.

* * *

"Takaba.. I want your mouth."

Heat, this terrible heat, was all what went through Asami's mind. Takaba's plump lips and hot hot mouth sild along the side of his cock, the lips had already turned bright read from work. And still, his release remained far way.

Asami's burly hands gripped Takaba's tawny locks. The force which was applied made his veins stand out.

Haze or alertness. Pain or pleasure. Dream or reality. To love or to lust.

Nothing mattered for now. Only the scalding burn on his cock and the soothing mouth that calmed it. Asami's breath fastened. His chest rose up and down like waves on sea. Takaba's gagging only added to the sweet thrill of his oncoming height.

Coming, Asami groaned. His hand tightened on Takaba if that was even possible.

Coming, he looked up to the blank ceiling, closed his eyes and opened them again.

And then he opened his eyes. Truly.

Asami panted.

His eyes blinked rapidly. His brain still adjusted to the change in dream and reality. Glanced around his surroundings. The room was dark, the only sound existing was from the tawny haired Takaba's snores. Asami sighed at that scene in which Takaba laid on the crook of his arm.

The kid would probably lung a hundred miles away if he woke up right now. Not that Asami wouldn't drag him kicking and screaming back home. Where he truly belonged.

He discovered the hard appendage between his legs with a start. And then he remembered his -very much romanticised- dream. Takaba in a sheer apron, blow-jobs and.. Yeah, Takaba smiling and laughing.

You're a lovesick fool, he mocked at himself.

But _really._

 _Who_ wouldn't love to see Takaba Akihito, the tsundere, in a sheer apron?

He smirked as an idea flittered past his mind.

Maybe he should force the boy to wear it one these days.


End file.
